


Stop Trying

by yukiscorpio



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-04-29
Updated: 2005-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-15 00:35:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29675697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yukiscorpio/pseuds/yukiscorpio
Summary: Nothing is absolute, and nothing can be perfect. And if he is the engineer kangaroo, easing himself forward little by little, is he close enough to eliminate the remaining distance and just reach out, and touch him?
Relationships: Yanagi Renji/Yukimura Seiichi





	Stop Trying

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on LJ on 29 April 2005.

Yanagi cannot remember since when he has stopped believing in perfection, or absolutes, anymore. Funny thing really, considering his devotion to mathematics and statistics. He likes mathematics because it is absolute; he is either right, or wrong. Simple, no grey area to worry about.

But once, somebody told him a joke. There were two male kangaroos, one a mathematician and the other an engineer, hopping towards a female kangaroo. With each hop they shortened the distance to the female by a half. The mathematical kangaroo never made it to the female, because the principles of mathematics prevented him from reaching her. The engineer kangaroo got close to the female, considered himself close enough to safely claim the distance remaining equalled zero, and stole the female away.

Why Yanagi remembers this unfunny joke, he doesn't know. But it illustrates one thing clearly enough: that even though life is governed by mathematics, if he still insists upon it, he will never get anywhere.

As for statistics, well, statistics never lie, it only depends on how one presents it. Just as Niou had once said, years ago, "truth is only how you spin it."

Nothing is absolute, and nothing can be perfect. And if he is the engineer kangaroo, easing himself forward little by little, is he close enough to eliminate the remaining distance and just reach out, and touch him?

Yanagi does not know.

But if he is never going to get there, he may as well stop trying.

***

The greenhouse is a place for plants to grow, to become strong, before being exposed to the harsh elements of the world, Yukimura always says. For most plants it is not a lifelong shelter; almost every one of them has a final destination, perhaps a sunny windowsill for the smaller ones, or a beautiful garden for the taller ones.

Every time Yanagi steps through the glass doors and sees Yukimura crouched down on the ground, tending to some flowers he cannot name, he wants to ask if Yukimura sees himself still inside his own greenhouse, or if he has grown out of it, and if he has, does he really find the world harsh? Why is it that he prefers to spend his life in this silent glass cage?

And then one day, Yukimura answers the question that has never made it past Yanagi's lips.

"Every plant inside this greenhouse is waiting for that one person to take it to a sunny windowsill, or a beautiful garden."

***

Yanagi likes it when the days are hot, and Yukimura dresses in only a tank top and a pair of shorts as he works in the greenhouse, because the hard muscles on the wiry frame tells him there is much more to Yukimura than just soft smiles and gently curling hair.

When the days are hot and the sun high, Yanagi would lure Yukimura out of the glass cage and onto the tennis courts, where Yukimura would give him his glorious defeat in exchange for sweat-dampened hair and sun-burnt skin, for no amount of sun cream can protect Yukimura. But he pales as quickly as he burns, and when Yanagi can no longer see the tan line on those arms, he knows it is time to ask Yukimura out again.

***

Gardening is an art Yanagi admits to never mastering, even though he spends time with Yukimura at the end of each day. "But you can't master this," Yukimura says, "because plants are alive and you need to adapt to their needs."

Perhaps Yanagi is just too scientifical to learn about the proper way to nurture something.

"That's not true." Yukimura takes Yanagi's hands into his own. "You have beautiful hands, Renji. Hands like these can do anything."

Yanagi lowers his gaze onto their hands, and says nothing. Perhaps they can, apart from touching Yukimura.

***

They sit, separated by the net, their racquets at their sides. The clay is hard and cold beneath them. Yanagi has to brush away sweat collecting at his lashes, as if wiping away tears, just so that he can see anything at all. Yukimura has turned a little pink again, but he insists that it does not hurt at all, and then he slumps back, into the net, against Yanagi's back, his head resting on Yanagi's shoulder. And no, they will not use an indoor court next time, he chuckles the words out. It has to be a place in the sun.

***

Oftentimes, the closer he is, the further apart he feels they are.

Being able to touch him, if he ever dares to do it, makes it all the more obvious that he cannot touch him.

It is like the graph of _y = 1/x_. The line inches closer and closer to the axis, but never gets there. No matter how hard he tries, those last few inches are like lightyears' worth of space, an endless void. He moves forward, but he will never cross that space. No matter how hard he tries, he remains the mathematical kangaroo, barred by asymptotes, chained by limits, brought to heel by formulae.

***

Winter rolls over. Yanagi cannot find an excuse to ask Yukimura out when the sun is hidden behind layers and layers of dullness. Yukimura spends his days in the glass house, and long silences settle over them. Yanagi's hands clench into tight fists; they cannot do anything at all.

Sometimes Yukimura looks up from his work, and stares at Yanagi, as if wanting to say something. Each time, Yanagi takes the hint, and slips out the glass doors as quietly as he can, because he knows he will not be able to stand hearing Yukimura ask him to leave.

***

But once, Yukimura speaks faster than Yanagi can escape.

"When are you going to stop trying to touch me, and touch me?"

***

He has forgotten to consider one of the probabilities. That even though his pitiful hopping will never take him to his goal, the other kangaroo may not just stand there and wait for him. That plants, although unmoving, stretch their roots towards fertile soil, and grow towards the sun.

Infinity becomes zero when that hand rests on his cheek. The mathematical impossibility no longer exists; the space has been crossed.

Yanagi has no beautiful garden to offer.

But Yukimura will be his beautiful garden.


End file.
